


.Sunflower.

by The_Wild_Sophia



Category: Clone High
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, and its Vinces birthday!, x Reader, youre a photographer how cool is that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wild_Sophia/pseuds/The_Wild_Sophia
Summary: As a photographer, you saw the world in frames, and you wanted share that with Van Gogh.
Relationships: Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	.Sunflower.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm really upset at the lack of Van Gogh x Readers so it looks like I'm back at my shit.

As a photographer, you saw the world in frames, scenes that were waiting to be captured. Sometimes, if you had the chance, after you’ve taken some photos, you’d return home and use them as references for your sketches. Most of them were of nature scenes or cities, but a decent size of your photos were of people. Most were of students at Clone High while the rest were of people you’d see on the streets, but recently you’re Nikon’s been filled with one person in particular. 

He was an odd choice and even you couldn’t explain why he had caught your eye, but your new subject was none other than Van Gogh. 

Call yourself strange or weird, but Van Gogh was generally just…handsome in your eyes. He was petite and short in height, yet he stood out in a crowd with his bright, orange hair and those striking celeste blue eyes. Many of your photos of him were taken from a distance and without him knowing, so he’s not even facing the camera in them. But the few that you  _ did  _ have where he was looking at the camera, where he was  _ smiling _ , you cherished and often redrew. 

Along with photographing him, however, you began to photograph the things he likes, mainly sunflowers. Before, you never really cared much for sunflowers; they were just another flower to you. However, after meeting Van Gogh and learning his love for sunflowers, you gained a new admiration for them. 

Speaking of which, you were photographing a wheat field that had sunflowers scattered about in it -- you had found it after speaking to Van Gogh and finding out that that was one of his favorite places to just hang out -- when inspiration had struck. 

You were currently working on a piece for Van Gogh himself. You had heard from a little birdie -- that birdie being Joan -- that his birthday was coming up, so you decided to make him something. 

It wasn’t much, just a collage of a sunflower field that you made using the pictures of sunflowers you had with Van Gogh in the center (using, of course, one of the less creepy, stalkerish pictures of him). You had originally wanted to paint it but your painting skills were…less than desirable, so you stuck with something you knew you could do well. 

You had finished it a few days before his birthday and were quite proud of it. You wrapped it and waited for the day to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time flew by and his birthday was today. Joan had informed you that her and Caesar were going to visit him and had invited you to join, which you hastily agreed to. The only problem is that you had to stay after school that day to help out the freshmen in photography (since none of the other juniors would do so). 

Joan had asked where you were and you quickly sent her a text explaining that you were stuck with the freshmen and would be there as soon as you could be. Turns out the soonest you could be there was way after they had their gathering, close to 8 pm. You had told Joan to let Van Gogh know that you’d still stop by to see him. 

True to your word, after closing up the photography classrooms and making sure all the freshmen had gone back to their dorms, you went back to the student dorms and made your way to the 4th floor, where Joan and told you his room was. 

Collage in hand, you knocked on his door hoping that you weren’t waking him. You didn’t know how early, or late, he went to bed. After a moment the door opened and Van Gogh was there, looking up at you. 

“Oh, there you are,” He began, “I was wondering if you were coming at all.” 

“Sorry,” You said with an apologetic smile, “I got stuck helping the freshmen out in photography. No one else wanted to do it so I was left to.” 

“You’re fine. I remember earlier this year, I spent  _ 5 hours _ helping some of the sophomores in painting I. It was…not all that fun.” He said with a small smile. You laughed at that and he soon laughed with you. 

“Did you want to come in?” He asked after the two of you had calmed down some. You shifted on your feet before answering, 

“Only if it’s okay with you.” 

“Oh it’s  _ more  _ than okay with me,” Van Gogh said, opening the door wider and moving to the side to let you in. Doing your best to keep your face neutral at that comment, you walked in and sat in an offered chair in his kitchen. 

Van Gogh followed suit, grabbing two waters from his fridge and giving one to you. You thanked him as he sat down in the chair across from you. The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke. 

“Sorry again for coming so late,” You began, “I really did mean to come here while the others were here.” You looked down at your hands where they were folded on the table. 

“And again, it’s fine,” Van Gogh said, making you look up, “I of all people know how difficult it can be when it comes to helping lower class men.” 

You smiled at his understanding before asking, 

“What did you guys do anyways?” 

“Not much,” Van Gogh said, “We just talked and listened to music while we painted. It really was nice; normally I spend my birthday alone.” 

“ _ Paintings. Crap your gift…stupid. _ ” 

“I’m glad to hear you had a good time, and before I forget,” You said, placing your gift on the table and sliding it over to him, “Here’s your gift, for me to you.” You finished with a smile. Van Gogh took your gift with a smile. 

“Aw, you didn’t have to.” He said, running his fingers over the wrapping. 

“I know I didn’t  _ have  _ to, but I wanted to,” You said, rubbing your upper arm, “Now, open it!” 

“Now?” 

“Yeah now.” 

Van Gogh began opening it, gently removing the wrapping paper instead of tearing it. He placed the paper on the table and his face contorted when he looked down at the collage. 

At first you thought he didn’t like it, but that thought subsided when you noticed how his mouth opened slightly and blue eyes widened, tears beginning to brim at the corners. He sniffled and that’s when you spoke up.

“Hey,” You called out softly, “Are you…” 

“I’m okay.” He said, “I just-” He cut himself off by covering his mouth. He looked away from you, doing his best to not cry in front of you. You remained quiet, waiting for him to calm down. You were concerned, but you waited patiently. 

“I love it,” Van Gogh said after a moment, “I’m sorry, I just…” He said, covering his hand against his mouth. He stood up, walking over to you and hugging you. You hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m always making art for other people,” He said into your shoulder, “No one’s ever made something like this for me. Thank you.” You smiled. 

“You’re welcome.” You whispered before he pulled away, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” Van Gogh said, looking over to where the collage was still sitting on the table, “It really is a beautiful piece.” He sat back down where he was a moment before, looking over the collage in more detail. 

“I’m glad you like you,” You said with a smile, “I had to go through multiple flash drives in order to find good enough photos for this, so I’m glad my effort didn’t go to waste.” He didn’t say anything, simply looking over the collage more, but you didn’t mind. After a moment, Van Gogh’s face scrunched up and he looked up at you asking, 

“Are these…from  _ the  _ wheat field? The one with the sunflowers that I told you about?” You felt your face flush and you looked away from him. 

“Some of them, yeah,” You answered, “How could you tell?” 

“Here, look,” He said, waving you over, “This sunflower, the one that’s got the tiny center, is from the field. So is this one with the orange petals aaaand…so are these ones, the little siamese ones.” He pointed to each sunflower and, sure enough, those were in fact the ones from the field. 

“You’ve got a good eye, Van Gogh.” You said surprised. 

“So do you,” Van Gogh said, looking up, “Most people would use the ‘normal’ looking ones but you chose the ones that were different. Why?” He asked. 

You thought for a moment before answering, 

“Well, I just thought of the person I was giving it to,” You started, which seemed to peak his interest, “You’re different. You’re somewhat ‘ratty’ looking, but you’re not  _ gross _ . You’re -- despite how cheesy this is going to sound -- unique, and that’s what I like about you. That’s… was looking for in the flowers.” You quickly added onto the end. You felt your face burn as you finished explaining this, and you hoped to God that he didn’t notice the heat rising to your face. 

Van Gogh smiled softly, running his fingers over the work. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” He whispered, “I really appreciate this.” He looked up at you and you felt your heart melt at the smile on his face. It made all those late nights worth it. 

“You’re welcome.” You choked out. He stood up, walking deeper into his room and placing the collage and paper on, what you presumed to be, his desk. He ran his hand over the gift one more time before saying, 

“Damn I miss the field; I haven’t been there in a while.” He walked back over to where you were standing at the table. 

“Hey, I have tons of images of the field,” You said, “Did you want to see them?” You asked, holding your camera up. 

“Only if you want to.” He answered. You sat back down at the table, Van Gogh to your left, as you turned your Nikon on. 

The two of you then spend the next two hours or so flipping through the pictures you had taken of the field, along with some of the students, plants, and other landscapes while talking about whatever came to mind. 

You had only noticed how late it had become when Van Gogh pointed it out to you. 

“It’s past 10, I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary.” Van Gogh said while he stood up. You followed suit and let him lead you to the door. “It was really nice having you over, even just for a few hours.” 

“Thanks for having me,” You said as you opened the door to leave, “Oh and before I forget,” You said turning back around. 

“Wha-” Van Gogh started but quickly stopped when he felt you soft, yet chapped, lips pressed against his forehead. 

“Happy birthday, Vincent.” You said quickly, pulling away when he just stood there and turning to leave. You had walked out the door, worried that you had made a mistake, before hearing Van Gogh call out to you. 

“Wait!” You quickly turned around and before you had time to think, Van Gogh had pressed a kiss to your cheek. You noticed that he was on his tippy-toes and that fact alone made you smile. He pulled away saying, 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” He smiled up at you and the pink-peach color that spread across his face was absolutely beautiful. 

“See you tomorrow,” You smiled, turning back around and closing the door to his dorm. 


End file.
